Cabin Fever, Summer Flu
by In Fair Verona
Summary: Ten years after their fallout, Summer and Seth are reunited when both are seeking an escape from the stresses of their adult lives. In a strange turn of events the two end up staying in a cabin together but with a wager and tensions running high, their co
1. Prologue

**Cabin Fever, Summer Flu **

**Author's Note**: Summer and Seth broke up at the end in season one when he sailed away on a boat. Therefore season two and three never happened - Summer didn't turn soft and Caleb Nichol is not dead yet.**  
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**Prologue**

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"Fully furnished, in-demand lakeside property with a full view, isolated for your own privacy and relaxation. Built in 1920, this property here has history, charm, and happens to be our last available lodge this summer. Well, Ms. Roberts, what do you think?"

"It's perfect." Summer Roberts exclaimed breathlessly, clasping her gloved hands together. Enlarged dark oculars which peaked out from under the brim of a large white hat admired the intricate wooden finishings of the exterior of the lakeside cabin she was standing infront of. She turned to the landlord, "I'll take it."

Arcadia Lake's landlord was named, according to his crooked name-tag, Mr. Duncan Baker, a man nearing his late sixties with deeply tanned skin and sparse white hair. Mr. Baker extended his hand out to the young lady, giving her a firm and enthusiastic shake. "If you'll just come up to the front building with me, we'll get all of your paperwork out of the way, and then you can begin your vacation in one of California's most elite and secluded lake retreats." Summer clasped her hands and nodded, attempting to restrain the self-satisfied grin etched across her face as she followed Mr. Baker, making quite an effort to prevent her Manolo Blahniks from being ruined by the dirt path.

Meanwhile, at Arcadia Lake's entrance building, a very frustrated and unshaven Jewish man in a plaid flannel shirt with nothing but a backpack and duffel bag on his shoulders was arguing quite vehemently with a rather timid receptionist. The young man behind the desk bit his lip nervously as he glanced up from the glowing computer screen and tentatively met the other man's eye. He had only begun working at Arcadia Lake two weeks ago and he had hardly expected to be engaged in this much trouble. "I'm sorry, I'm not seeing a reservation for a Mr. Seth Cohen anywhere in our registry." He replied, for perhaps the fifth time.

"Well there must be an error in your system." A Mr. Seth Cohen replied back tightly, twiddling his fingers. He leant over the counter, "Do you want to check again?"

"I've already checked five times, sir." The receptionist insisted.

"Is there a manager I can speak to?" Seth inquired, glancing around the front lobby, "My parents have rented out cabin number nine every summer for almost twenty consecutive years. My grandfather used to own this resort, I just don't understand how there could possibly be a misunderstanding, I booked this vacation months ago. I talked to a boy named- uh, Willy? Wallace?"

"Wally?" The reservationist interrupted. "Well, that would appear to be your problem, sir." Seth gave the younger boy a curious look, silently beckoning him to continue. "Wally was fired last month for attempting to concoct cocaine in the lobby restrooms." Under his breath, the reservation managed to murmur as he checked the computer for the sixth time, "Apparently he mistook poison oak for the coca leaf, which anyone would know is indigenous to South America for the most part." He glanced up at Mr. Cohen earnestly. "Biology major."

"Allright," Seth announced, leaning over the desk and now lowering his voice to a quiet whisper. "If I haven't booked cabin number nine, then could you tell me who has?"

As if a higher power were directing a fated chain of events in an order which could certainly not be coincidental, the back door swung open and a very pleased looking landlord stepped across the threshold, clasping his hands together excitedly. He was followed by a petite woman in a white wide-brim hat and rather intimidating sunglasses. "Davis, my boy, go out to the front and get Ms. Robert's luggage and take them to cabin number nine! We're officially fully booked for the entire summer!" He said, looking very pleased with himself as he held the door open for his guest. "Well, Davis, what are you waiting for?" Mr. Baker asked, looking at him expectantly.

"Um," The young receptionist bit his lip, clearly a nervous habit, looking back and forth from Mr. Cohen to Mr. Baker. "Uh, sir, Mr. Cohen here has been insisting for the past half hour that he has a reservation for cabin nine. However, there aren't any records of such a thing in our database."

"...Ah." Mr. Baker said simply, his wrinkled grin constricting into a thoughtful line.

"Excuse me," The petite woman stepped forward from behind Mr. Baker, "Did you say Mister... Cohen?" She inquired, peeling down her sunglasses to get a better look at the man standing infront of the reception desk. Rugged face, toned arms, light tan... "Nevermind. I used to know a boy with the last name Cohen, but clearly you're... not him." She said simply, sliding her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose.

"Summer?" Seth exclaimed incredulously.

This time Summer ripped her shades off her face, "It is you! Oh, god." She made a disgusted expression before quickly regaining her composure.

"So you two know each other?" Mr. Baker inquired pleasantly, receiving a curt negatory nod which was indicative of "no" from Summer Roberts.

"We dated in high school!" Seth protested.

"I have no idea what he's talking about..." Summer trailed off, pulling out her checkbook, "So, how much shall I put down on the cabin? I'm very eager to move in, I'm quite exhausted by now." She said in an attempt to change the topic.

"No, no. This is not happening." Seth placed a hand over his face in shame. "I can't ever escape it. I always lose to Summer. You always take everything."

"If I could give you your virginity back, I would, Seth. Seeing as to how it suits how childish you're behaving right now." Summer replied nonchalantly, searching for a pen.

"No, Summer, I am not letting you get your way this time. I reserved this cabin months in advance, you just showed up here today." Seth glanced up at Mr. Baker. "Did I mention that my grandfather is Caleb Nichol?"

"I can't believe you!" Summer exclaimed. "You're pulling the Caleb Nichol card? Since when did you become just like all the 'trust-fund babies' you used to criticize?" Summer turned sharply towards Mr. Baker, her hair softly fanning around as it followed in suit. "Have you heard of a Doctor Neil Roberts, Mr. Baker? World reknown plastic surgeon, happens to be my-"

"I see you haven't outgrown your penchant for hypocrisy." Seth replied caustically, he turned to Mr. Baker. "Look, I made a reservation months ago. It was the negligence of one of your own employees which negated it, therefore it really is your responsibility to fix this. I think I could forgive you if you would just reinstate my reservation." Seth said condescendingly as he searched for his credit card.

"Um," Mr. Baker began but was quickly cut off by an incredulous-

"Whatever!" Summer interjected, placing her hands on her hips. She turned to Mr. Baker, "Don't let him talk to you like that." She glanced coldly back at Seth, "You're not the boss here, who died and made you king?"

"Do you hear that? That's the sound of nostalgia, because I believe king-sized is exactly what you called it." Seth said innocently. Summer's eyes narrowed and she raised a fist threateningly, taking a step towards him and creating a loud "clack" with her heels against the hardwood floor.

"Why you little-"

"Um, can I propose an idea?" Davis, the timid receptionist, inquired as he rose his hand in a student like fashion. Naturally, he went ignored.

"What are you going to do, Summer? Claw me to death? Aren't you afraid of breaking a nail?"

"Um, my idea-"

"You're not even worth the cost of a manicure-"

"HEY." Davis shouted, placing his hands on the reception desk and pushing himself up out of his seat. "Can you both stop acting like children for one second and start acting like adults? I have an idea." He finished simply.

"Best let him continue, he's the type to snap easily." Mr. Baker whispered to Summer, whom along with Seth had grown quiet. The two even refused to face each other though both bore an expression of mixed guilt and frustration.

"Look, cabin nine was built as a couple's suite. It's meant for two people, so if it really means that much to both of you, you could just just rent it together. It would cut the total cost in half and there's plenty of room for each of you to do your own thing for the most part."

"I'm afraid that idea's quixotic at best." Seth replied. "Summer wouldn't last five minutes in the same room with me without making an attempt on my life."

"What? I am perfectly capable of not committing murder, it's just that you can't stand being in a room for five minutes with me without taunting me!" Summer retorted.

"You really think you can last the entire month without trying to do me bodily harm?" Seth inquired incredulously, clearly on the verge of outright laughing.

"I'll even prove it." Summer countered, turning sharply to Davis, "In fact, you can go ahead and register cabin number nine under Summer Roberts and Seth Cohen."

"Uh-huh." Seth nodded, "But if you do try to do anything... let's say... before half our time there is up, then you have to move out and let me spend the rest of my vacation in peace."

"And if I do keep my hands to myself, then at the end of two weeks, you can pack your bags."

"_If_. If you succeed, then it's a deal." Seth agreed, "By the way, I realize this may be a difficult feat but that means you've got to keep your hands off me for two weeks."

"I know how long half a month is, Seth."

"Fine."

"Fine!" Summer huffed, crossing her arms. "Now go fetch my bags."


	2. Day 1: Bait & Switch

**Cabin Fever, Summer Flu**

**By: **In Fair Verona  
**Rating:** T / PG-13  
**Pairing:** Summer x Seth  
**Summary: **Ten years after their fallout, Summer and Seth are reunited when both are seeking an escape from the stresses of their adult lives. In a strange turn of events the two end up staying in a cabin together but with a wager and tensions running high, their contempt for one another could either heal or grow worse.**  
Disclaimer:** I do not own Summer Roberts, Seth Cohen, or anything else affiliated with the O.C.

**Author's Note**:  
**monster-in-the-closet** - Thanks! Though I did take a two year break in updating the Consequences. That aside, I guess you could say I update regularly.  
**Somebody's-Dark-Angel** - Thanks, and actually the Consequences is now finished, which is why I've started this story

**Day One**

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Summer Roberts leaned back against the worn brown leather couch in the cabin's expansive living room, the texture of the furniture was cool and refreshing against her hot skin and the blistering humidity. Seth Cohen relaxed himself into the matching arm-chair across from her, rolling up the sleeves of his plaid shirt to relieve him from the heat. The two stared at each other with locked gazes for a moment in an unspoken battle to see whom would speak first. Naturally, Seth lost.

"How's Zach?" He asked with faux enthusiasm in his inquiry, tilting his head to the side as he examined the woman sitting across from him.

"How's Anna?" Summer countered, her eyes never wavering from his as she intensified her gaze with a facade of interest.

"We're engaged."

"We're divorced." Summer replied nonchalantly as she slid her white jacket off, revealing a professional black tank top that fit snugly against her. She crossed her legs and uncrossed them, desperate to find a place or position of comfort around Cohen. "So... congratulations."

"You too." Seth offered, raising his hand at her in acknowledgement.

"Have you set a date yet?" Summer inquired, this time with sincere interest seeping through into her question. She tucked a few dark curls behind her ears, waving a perfectly tanned hand at her face in an attempt to cool herself, creating the picturesque image of an upper-class woman straight out of an F. Scott Fitzgerald novel.

"No... no, not really." Seth replied, shaking his head. He scratched the light stubble on his chin in a thoughtful manner. "We thought it was best to take our time. Just to make sure..." He paused, daring himself to continue, "We didn't want to rush into it and then end up divorced." He explained with cunning innocence.

"How considerate of you both." Summer replied, unaffected by his remark. "You wouldn't want to wait too long. Knowing you both, your insecurities will get in the way." She refrained from adding 'the way it did before' to her sentence and instead flashed the man opposite of her a quick and confident grin. "Tie the knot now before you're too old to. It's better to have loved and lost than never loved at all, right?" She inquired in a light tone.

"Well, I was never the rash type. I don't rush into things." Seth explained simply. Summer narrowed her eyes, giving a particular look.

"Right. So... how long were you and Anna broken up before you came to me?" Summer asked, not intending for him to answer but rather to prove a point, and she suceeding in doing so.

"You haven't changed, you still love proving me wrong." Seth commented off-handedly, turning his gaze away from her.

"Au contraire, Cohen, you've just always set yourself up to look like a fool. I just point it out." Summer retorted, flashing an innocent smirk as she tilted her head to the side mockingly. "So..." She folded her hands on top of her lap, looking at him in a way that was strictly business and pushed all jest aside. "Since we're here and being near civil, we should probably discuss sleeping arrangements." Summer suggested.

"That's a great idea. Here's one I'd like to put on the table - Since I booked it first, I get the bed and you can have the couch." Seth said simply, causing Summer to scoff as she folded her arms over her chest and glared at him with her dark brown daggers for eyes. "Allright, joint custody then. You can have the bed Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays and we'll both sleep on the floor on Saturdays." This idea didn't bode over very well with Summer either, as she found it distasteful to be on the floor at all. "So, what do you want to do? Pull another Tijuana?" Seth asked her sarcastically.

"Ugh, please. Don't bring back painful memories." Summer mumbled, rolling her eyes at him.

"How was that a painful memory? You're the one who took all the covers, princess."

"It was painful because my best friend nearly killed herself, jack-ass."

"Right." Seth recalled slowly, nodding his head. "I'm thinking that for that insensitive comment alone... I'll be taking the couch." He mumbled, more to himself than to Summer, who merely scoffed in an attempt to hide the satisfactory smirk that appeared on her golden face.

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"Isn't this supposed to be a five-star camping resort? Where the hell is the food?" Summer asked, looking at the open refridgerator which sported nothing but a six-pack of Budweiser, much to Summer's distaste. Seth ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, peering over her shoulder. His bemused smirk was illuminated by the white glow of the fridge as he patted his house-mate on the shoulder.

"Summer, Summer, Summer." He shook his head. At his condescending tone Summer turned around adruptly to face him as the refridgerator door closed itself behind her. "You're really getting in over your head, aren't you? Maybe this lifestyle is just too rough for you... You know what? I'll call you a cab and get you a room at the Four Seasons, my treat." He offered with a cocky grin.

"I don't think so, Cohen. The only thing you can buy me is something edible."

"And some company on the long, cold, lonely nights." Seth said teasingly, earning himself a glare. She would never know how much satisfaction he received from seeing her like this, all hot and bothered with her fists curled up and yet unable to harm a hair on his head. The day he never thought he'd lived to see had come and he was milking it for all it was worth. "Summer, you don't rent a cabin so you can have P.F. Chang's. The whole point is roughing it. You have to go out there, in the wilderness, and catch yourself a fish. We can worry about cooking it after that."

"Well... why don't you go catch me a fish?" Summer asked, placing her hands on her hips and looking at him expectantly. Seth laughed at the thought of doing man-labor for Summer, he laughed and it he did it loudly before turning around and walking off into the living room. "How about another wager, Cohen?" Summer asked, arching an eyebrow. "We fish. Both of us. We'll eat whoever's is bigger and whoever does catch the bigger fish... can have the bed for tonight."

"Hmm... considering how you have absolutely no experience with fishing, I think I'll have to take you up on that bet." Seth replied with a grin, taking her hand in his and giving it a good firm shake.

"Don't forget that you're the pansy who cried during a movie and is scared of the hardware store." Summer reminded him, pushing past him as she made her way upstairs into the bedroom to change into something more appropriate for their newly spurned competition.

Fifteen minutes later the pair were sitting back to back in a rickety old rowboat, each with a fishing pole in hand and with a bored expression on their sunbathed faces. Summer sat there elegantly, sporting an old red tank top and a pair of over-alls and Armani shades. She tapped her foot impatiently.

"Whoever decided that this was an entertaining sport was clearly insane." She muttered. "I mean, what's the point?"

"I think the whole reason people enjoying fishing isn't because of the fish, it's because of the bonding time." Seth responded dully. Summer merely shrugged.

"Well, I'm not having fun doing that either."

"That's because you're not doing it. You could make an effort, you know, 'Hey Seth, how was your day?'"

"How about you just shut up so your loud mouth doesn't scare all the fish away?" Summer suggested, at which point Seth found himself falling silent. The silence extended for the next several minutes, creating an awkward atmosphere. There were many points at which one of them would open their mouth, as if to say something but then seemed to decide better of it and remained quiet.

That is, until a gentle tug at Summer's fishing pole startled her and she let out a small squeak as she grabbed onto the pole with both hands, "S-Seth!" She exclaimed worriedly.

"What?" Seth asked in a mumble, his head resting against his hand and his elbow positioned on his knee.

"I think I caught something." Summer explained, looking at him over her shoulder. Seth glanced over his shoulder at her in surprise. He hadn't been expecting Summer to catch anything but they both knew that she always got what she wanted, so it shouldn't have been that surprising. Seth got up and carefully walked to Summer's end of the little rowboat, getting on his knees behind her. "What do I do?" Summer asked him, gripping the rod tightly.

"You have to reel it in." Seth explained simply. Summer shot him a helpless look and with a sigh and the roll of his eyes Seth leaned forward, reaching around Summer's petite body. He placed a hand gently over hers, moving it to the reel and turning it with a steady hand. Summer focused on their hands carefully, though her body had frozen up from the close proximity. She didn't want Seth Cohen this close to her, but under the circumstances it seemed inevitable. Plus, she wanted to win this little bet. It might make her feel better when she lost the other one because with each minute it got harder not to murder Seth with her own bare hands.

Suddenly with a splash of water a riggling fish emerged into the air, attached to the end of Summer's fishing rod. "Ew!" Summer exclaimed, looking up at the poor fidgeting creature. It looked as if it were having an epileptic seizure and Summer almost felt sorry for it. But it was a big fish, had it been a measley sized creature she may have thrown it back into the water. "I don't think you're going to beat that, Cohen." Summer said breathlessly and Seth released her hand and stood up, unhooking the fish from the hook and holding it in his hands.

"I'll give you the benefit of the doubt." Seth said, looking at the size of the fish, a trout, with wide eyes. He was definitely impressed. "You did a good job for your first time fishing." He told Summer.

"I couldn't have done it without you." She replied, dusting off her hands.

"I think that's the nicest thing you've said to me in ten years." Seth replied with a cocky smile. Summer didn't know exactly how to respond to that so rather than saying anything she gave him a timid smile as she rolled her eyes.

"Now you can row us back to shore." Summer ordered, looking at him expectantly. She crossed her legs and motioned to the oars.

"I knew it was too good to last." Seth mumbled, sitting down and grabbing both of the oars as he began their descent back to the dock.

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"So, are we going to eat this thing raw or are you going to get off of your lazy ass and cook it?" Summer asked, leaning over the couch and looking down at Seth's resting form. Seth groaned, pulling a pillow over his head.

"It's your fish, you cook it."

"Exactly. I did the catching part, now you can do the cooking part. So," She reached down, yanking the pillow away from him, "Let's hop to it."

"Well, considering you're the woman, why don't you hop to it?" Seth asked, looking up at her. "You belong in the kitchen." At his remark an eerie pause filled the room as Summer's eyes filled with venom. Seth looked up at her with a fearful look. It had been so long since he had been at the receiving end of a rage blackout and he was in no hurry to experience it again.

"Excuse me, Cohen?" Summer asked, climbing over the couch and landing on him, straddling his waist and smothering his face with the pillow in an attempt to cut off any source of oxygen. "I can't believe you just said that, you pig!" She exclaimed, pressing the pillow down harder.

"Shmr!" Seth exclaimed through the pillow, his arms flailing madly in an attempt to free himself from the pillow. He blindly felt around, first touching Summer's leg and then moving upwards to the side of her hip to get her in a well-known ticklish spot. Summer fidgetted and let go of her death-hold on the pillow with a squeal.

"Why you little-"

"You just broke the bet!" Seth exclaimed, gasping of air. "You tried to kill me!"

"I didn't lay a hand on you." Summer responded coldly. "I used a pillow. It doesn't count." She reached for the pillow again but Seth grabbed her wrist with his hand, preventing her from trying to murder him again. In a few seconds she should calm down and that would be the end of her rage blackout. He held his breath, hoping she wouldn't try anything fast. She didn't, instead she swung her legs over him and stood up, wrangling her wrist out of his grasp. "Kitchen. Now, Cohen." She demanded, crossing her arms under her chest and glaring at him. Seth was a smart man, and he knew what was good for him and what wasn't. He obediently got up from the couch, meekly making his way into the kitchen under Summer's intense gaze.

After a decently cooked meal which was eaten quietly yet tensely, the two parted their ways. Summer went upstairs into the bedroom, closing it with a defining thud, on purpose. Seth mosied into the living room, plopping down onto the couch and pulling a blanket over his head. It was only the first day and already the two had gotten on each other's last nerve. It was going to be a long so-called vacation.


End file.
